


Long Hard Times To Come in Purgatory

by meridian_rose (meridianrose)



Category: Justified, Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Agent Dolls and Nicole are mentioned, Community: trope_bingo, Crossover, Gen, The Winona-Willa and Wynonna-Willa coincidences were too much for me to ignore, anachronistic cowboys, background wynonna/doc, dark-bingo, in which I rewrite the Justified finale to explain away that epilogue, modern western meets weird western, vaguely implied Raylan/Boyd
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 18:58:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9562271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meridianrose/pseuds/meridian_rose
Summary: When Boyd escapes prison, Raylan tracks him to the small town of Purgatory, and finds there are weirder things in existence than he thought. He meets Wynonna Earp, demon killer, and if her friend Doc can stop glowering at him, maybe they'd find plenty in common. And maybe Boyd has one more trick up his sleeve.





	

Go to Purgatory they said. Sounds fun, he'd quipped. Retrieve Boyd Crowder, again, they'd said. Sure thing, Raylan had agreed.

He'd been to many small towns, seen weird things, dealt with all kinds of shit.

But a man whose eyes glowed red as Raylan wrestled him in the dirt was a new one even for him. He'd lost his hat, punched his attacker to no avail, and now finally managed to draw his gun, holding it against the man's torso. Shooting the asshole twice, Raylan scrambled to his feet. The man got up and stumbled towards him. Raylan shot him again. And again.

This was like one of those zombie video games, right? Or maybe more of that bath salts crap that had happened around the millennium.

A motorbike approached, halted.

"Back off," Raylan said, waving at the motorcycle while he retreated, still shooting. The man was slowing but not stopping.

The motorcycle rider took off her helmet and strode towards them, drawing her own gun – and even under the circumstances Raylan noted it was a beauty.

"Hey, asshole," she yelled, hopefully at the man Raylan had named as such and not at Raylan himself. "Make your peace!"

Her gun fired and Raylan swore the barrel glowed orange. That moment of weirdness was eclipsed when the bullet hit his attacker and the man literally went up in flames.

Even as Raylan was wondering if the man had been doused in gasoline – but surely he would have caught the stench of it, as close as they'd been pressed together – things managed to get stranger. The shrieking, fire-engulfed man disappeared into the ground.

There was silence. The dirt was just dirt, not so much as a scorchmark left behind.

"Huh," Raylan said, one hand on his hip.

"You okay, mister?" the rider asked, reaching his side and sheathing the gorgeous weapon.

Raylan reached into his pocket and pulled out his badge. "Deputy US Marshal Raylan Givens." He stared at the curiously unmarked ground again.

"I'm with the Black Badge Division. Wynonna. Earp."

Raylan squinted. Black what? Wait, did she say Earp?

"That's a name with a lot of baggage," he offered.

Wynonna huffed a laugh. "You have no idea."

Raylan retrieved his hat, dusted it off and placed it back on his head. He had a vague recollection of a story Tim had told him about one night, when they were both pretty drunk, about a mysterious government agency that had approached him before Tim had joined the marshal service. It had sounded like "too much weird crap" and Tim had passed on the offer. Until now, Raylan had assumed Tim was shitting him but now he was having second thoughts.

"Black Badge. That have something to do with all this –" he gestured.

"Maybe. Nice hat."

"Thanks." Raylan studied her; pale skin, long dark hair, late-twenties. "Look, a while back there was an incident. I got shot. In the head. A little. Ruined my favourite hat. Had to hunt a long while for an exact replica – found this beauty on Ebay." He caressed the rim again, noting the way it drew Wynonna's attention.

Wynonna nodded.

"I was in a coma. Just a little one," he said with a shrug. "My Winona – see, that's funny. I have a Win-nona, Wy-nonna. My ex. Anyway she was kind of upset about it. But it was only two days, at least from her perspective."

"But not from yours," Wynonna guessed.

Raylan hesitated. "Thing is, I lived years in that place. A whole other life - not without its charms I'll grant you, and nothing so nightmarish as what I just witnessed. But not the life I had in mind. So you'd think I'd be grateful it was just some sort of hallucinatory dream."

Wynonna was listening intently. "But?"

Raylan sighed. "Thing is, sometimes I wonder if I really woke up. Sometimes, when events get a little weird, when there are odd coincidences or strange things happen, I start to wonder if maybe I'm still unconscious. Or dead. Or – well, this is Purgatory."

Wynonna stared at him. "I know what it's like to question your sanity," she said at last. She seemed to consider her options. "What are you doing in Purgatory, Deputy Marshal Raylan Givens?"

"Looking for a convict named Boyd Crowder. He escaped from prison. Again." Raylan chuckled. "He's my nemesis, I guess you could say. I am doomed to the eternal pursuit of him."

"He's only human?"

Raylan didn't blink at the question. "So far as I know."

Wynonna nodded. They both looked at the place where Raylan's attacker had vanished. "Buy a girl a glass or two of bourbon?"

"Sure."

"Then I'll explain a few things," Wynonna said. "Because there are secrets that have to be kept, but I'll be more damned than I am already if I'll let you think you're think insane without cause."

*

Doc glowered at Raylan, sitting right next to Wynonna, his hat placed just so on the table. It didn't help that Raylan and Wynonna were laughing or that she was leaning so close to the cowboy. Waverly, watching Doc watch her sister, swore Doc's moustache was quivering independently of the rest of his face.

"Who is that gentleman?" Doc inquired, ensuring the appellation came out sounding more like an insult.

"A deputy US Marshal," Waverly said, pouring another shot for Doc. "He's looking for a fugitive. He got jumped by a revenant which he handled pretty well apparently, but for some reason he freaked out when he heard our sister was called Willa, and Wynonna's been trying to calm him down ever since."

Doc downed the shot, leaned back against the bar. "He looks plenty calm to me."

"Aw," Waverly cooed, refilling his shot glass. "Are you jealous? I mean he is both a lawman and a cowboy so I can see why you would be." Her eyes widened. "Oh, shit, I was joking and now I realise that isn't much of a joke because he really is a cowboy lawman and, and I'm, I'm shutting up now."

Doc gave her an odd look. He didn't even pick up the glass.

"He'll be gone as soon as he gets his man," Waverly offered. "What was it? Boyd something. If you help find him then Raylan will leave. And you are good at tracking people."

Doc was no doubt aware of Waverly's attempt to bolster his good humour by this compliment but he took it in the spirit it was intended. "Maybe I will."

A few moments later Doc was gone. Waverly drained the shot he'd left behind and shook her head. She was just surprised his parting words weren't something like "This town ain't big enough for the both of us."

*

From within the car, Boyd held up his shackled wrists, leaned towards the open door. "Say goodbye to the pretty people, Raylan, and then we can get going. Sooner we get back to prison, sooner you can take off these bracelets for they sure do chafe a man."

"One more word and you'll be in the trunk," Raylan warned him. He turned to Wynonna and Doc. "Thanks for your help." 

He held out his hand. Doc shook it. Wynonna rolled her eyes at the moment where both men vied for dominance before giving in. Wynonna gave Raylan a brief hug, aware of Doc's eyes on her back.

"You're welcome back anytime," she told Raylan.

"Ha," Boyd said. "We might take you up on that."

Raylan slammed the door, Boyd jerking back before he got hit in the face. Raylan touched the brim of his hat. Doc nodded sombrely and returned the gesture. Raylan got into the car and drove away, Doc moving to slip one arm around Wynonna's waist.

"He weren't so terrible," Doc acknowledged.

"But you're still glad he's gone. Purgatory's only big enough for one anachronistic cowboy, right?" Wynonna leaned into Doc briefly, laughed. "Come on. I have a report to avoid writing."

*

"Well, well, well." Boyd strode before the assembled company like the cock in a henhouse. "Did I not say we would both be back here?"

Raylan glowered. Wynonna fingered Peacemaker. Doc and Nicole were flanking Waverly, while Dolls sat projecting deceptive calm.

"So only you can save the world?" Dolls asked. "That's convenient."

Raylan scoffed. He was still smarting from being seconded to the Black Badge division out in Purgatory, not because he disliked the idea of working with Wynonna and company again, but partly because he had been given no choice in the matter and mostly because it meant listening to Boyd.

Boyd spread his hands, innocent as a choirboy. "I did not ask for this gift," he said with false modesty. "Yet within my hands such power lies."

"Enough of that shit," Raylan said, his patience almost exhausted once more. It was a miracle Boyd had survived the journey here. There had been a number of places where Boyd could have met with an accident and the body gone undiscovered. "I have no desire for you to start preaching again. And it seems to me you're in bed with the demons to have this so-called power in the first place."

Boyd tipped his head. "You wound me, Raylan." He glanced over at Doc. "Sometimes good can come from ill-advised beginnings, is that not so?"

Waverly took Doc's hand. Boyd didn't miss the gesture, for Raylan didn't miss Boyd noticing it. He was too clever, that was the thing with Boyd who saw things he shouldn't, came up with ideas he shouldn't act on, and it was only the smallest of errors, only betrayal by others, that kept sabotaging his plans.

Raylan had spent years of his life devoted to Boyd, one way or another, going from working together to pursuing him. Boyd had been sent to prison and that should have an end to it – only that wasn't Boyd's story was it? It wasn't _their_ story. 

One supernatural reveal – Raylan was more convinced than ever he was living in an alternate coma-induced universe but had given up trying to wake up from it – and Boyd was pardoned, on condition of his assisting the Black Badge Division, and Raylan was his unwilling keeper.

"For the moment we have no choice but to accept Mr Crowder's help," Dolls said.

"Ugh."

"Thank you, Wynonna," Dolls said firmly. "We are of course thrilled to have experienced officer of the law Raylan Givens joining us for the foreseeable future."

Raylan didn't miss the slight grimace Doc gave at that.

"My, my," Boyd said. "So much doom and gloom. We have a great destiny, my good people. You all seem so uptight. I'd recommended a few glasses of bourbon and some, if you'll excuse the indelicacy, fucking."

"Demon hunting first, drinking later," Raylan said.

"And the fucking?" Boyd managed to take in Raylan, Wynonna, Doc, Dolls in one suggestive gesture.

"Don't push your luck," Raylan said, desperate to ignore the desires he'd long since put aside.

"Oh, I think we'll all push our luck before this is over," Boyd said.

"Are you sure I can't shoot him?" Wynonna asked for the third time.

Boyd grinned.

Dolls got to his feet. "May this be the start of a productive partnership," he said. "Let's go. We'll start at the edge of town, where the first sighting was."

Boyd spread his hands. "Lead the way," he said. Raylan moved behind him to give him a shove.

This was going to be a long, hard, assignment.

**Author's Note:**

> For the dark bingo prompt "coma" and the trope bingo prompt "au: supernatural" because Justified is not a supernatural show.


End file.
